Raymond Rabies twirled around, frantically feeling up her slender body. She wasn’t looking as happy as I would be if I were touching that skin again. Something to look forward to.
“Fuck. Where’s my sidewalk chalk?”
I should have figured. Here we are, in a crowd of poor wacked out ravers, and I wasn’t paying attention. Sure enough… my shiv is missing. Not much of a loss, but this shouldn’t happen to me. This mission has got my whole attention, so much so that I’ve lost my basic training.
“I’ve got a bigger mouth than I thought.”
Excuse me. The voice by my side belonged to a girl a little strung out, but she had a Lauren Bacall type-face behind her mushy makeup. Of course she was wearing red… and of course she was right. She had a very stellar sized mouth. My attention is adverted.
“You wanna go somewhere private?”
“What for?”
She knew what for.
“You know why.”
“You’re cute.”
“I know.”
I stole the line straight outta Han Solo’s mouth, not that she caught the reference. She grabs my hand like so many of her kind have in the past. It turns me on every time. I followed her into the party, leaving my colleagues behind, but not before I took one last glimpse over my shoulder at them. I don’t care about them, but I worry for them. Why Mouser brought them with me on this mission I do not know. For some reason he’s under the impression that they may help me.
Anyways, the looks on two of their faces as I journeyed was typical. Roen was condescending as usual. His holier than thou attitude that he tries to hide was gleaming in his cheeks. His wife’s dead and I don’t think he’s gotten over the old time tradition of monogamy. He’ll learn. Audra looked pissed. We had argued earlier, but I felt her energy gathering in my direction. I made a mental note to remind myself to give her the time of her life when all is said and done. The final person I laid eyes on before leaving was my dearest Rabies. Her gaze was a bit cold, in contrast to our… safari… in the train’s bathroom. She pulled out a pill to ease her pain. I felt bad, but I knew the hand guiding me would make me forget. Rabies will be ok. She’s right at home, in the rave. The flood of people was easy to get through. My temporary companion knew her way around, and I mean that in more than one way. It didn’t shock me, nor turn me off. V’s can be fun, but you need loving from someone with experience just to remind you of how good contact can be. I could tell she had experience, and more. She’s a slut in the most pleasurable sense of the term. No matter the stall, the position, the length, this shit was going to be fun. The bass dropped right before we floated into to the bathroom, forcing me to look up at the stage and right into the eyes of my target. He looked tired, but his playing never got lazy. The DJ will be there when I get back, and what I have in store for him couldn’t be more different than what I have in store for the devil with the grasp of an angel. I’ll let her lead me on. The woman’s bathroom was lit like most of it’s kind: dark light flooded the room filled with glowing graffiti. The parts of the floor that wasn’t covered in dirt glowed like the artwork, while the glass bounced from the music playing outside. A woman let her stomach go in the first toilet as we headed to the last. My girl was gentle as she brought me in, but that soon changed. She rushed to lock the door and continued the movement to my lips while simultaneously reaching into my pants. As we let our stresses go I couldn’t help but think of the times my dad and I watched the classics. Seeing Humphrey Bogart clench the femme fatale in his arms, forgetting all about the Maltese Falcon and the people who stole it. The film’s tag line: “a story as explosive as his blazing automatic” rung through my head as she pulled out my other. We had a wonderful time to say the least. Her back arched like the bow I leant to Rabies on our journey here (man, I promised not to think about her while doing the deed). Our motions were fluid… and our fluids were full of motion. I hadn’t been this satisfied in a long time.
And then it happened.
As she proceeded to put her pants on a piece of chalk fell from her pocket. All euphoria ceased. I know some people have to steal in order to survive, but it’s people who aren’t content with nabbing the necessities that make my job never ending. In the name of Rabies I pulled the gun that she leant me out, and aimed it at the raver’s head. She comprehended what I was doing, but kept sane. “Who did you steal that from?” “The what?” “The chalk. Where did you get the chalk?” “I bought it.” “You can’t afford chalk.” “I saved up for it, I swear.” “Why would you need chalk?” “To put on my body.” “To what?” “To put on my body. Sometimes I chalk up my body before coming to the rave. It increases my sex drive.” She just increased mine. “Show me.” She picked out a few other pieces from her pockets and then, like in a trance, she doused herself in a dry rainbow of beauty. We went at it again. Maybe it was because endurance was in our cards this time or that there was something in the chalk worth inhaling. I’m convinced it was a mixture of both. Either way, the second time was better than the first. Way better than the first. If I had to rank it, I’d rank it a Murder, My Sweet in terms of quality. The first time was more of a Night In The City: really intriguing, but too stuck on Greco-roman wrestling for it’s own good. Second helping sex consisted of pockets of black washing over my mind when it wasn’t full of complex pleasures of universal whodunit. It was a piece of literature Chandler would have been tempted to write. All of my anger towards her went away.
Rabies twirled around, frantically feeling up her slender body. She wasn’t looking as happy as I would be if I were touching that skin again. Something to look forward to.
“Fuck. Where’s my sidewalk chalk?”
I should have figured. Here we are, in a crowd of poor wacked out ravers, and I wasn’t paying attention. Sure enough… my shiv is missing. Not much of a loss, but this shouldn’t happen to me. This mission has got my whole attention, so much so that I’ve lost my basic training.
“I’ve got a bigger mouth than I thought.”
Excuse me. The voice by my side belonged to a girl a little strung out, but she had a Lauren Bacall type-face behind her mushy makeup. Of course she was wearing red… and of course she was right. She had a very stellar sized mouth. My attention is adverted.
“You wanna go somewhere private?”
“What for?”
She knew what for.
“You know why.”
“You’re cute.”
“I know.”
I stole the line straight outta Han Solo’s mouth, not that she caught the reference. She grabs my hand like so many of her kind have in the past. It turns me on every time. I followed her into the party, leaving my colleagues behind, but not before I took one last glimpse over my shoulder at them. I don’t care about them, but I worry for them. Why Mouser brought them with me on this mission I do not know. For some reason he’s under the impression that they may help me.
Anyways, the looks on two of their faces as I journeyed was typical. Roen was condescending as usual. His holier than thou attitude that he tries to hide was gleaming in his cheeks. His wife’s dead and I don’t think he’s gotten over the old time tradition of monogamy. He’ll learn. Audra looked pissed. We had argued earlier, but I felt her energy gathering in my direction. I made a mental note to remind myself to give her the time of her life when all is said and done.
The final person I laid eyes on before leaving was my dearest Rabies. Her gaze was a bit cold, in contrast to our… safari… in the train’s bathroom. She pulled out a pill to ease her pain. I felt bad, but I knew the hand guiding me would make me forget. Rabies will be ok. She’s right at home, in the rave.
The flood of people was easy to get through. My temporary companion knew her way around, and I mean that in more than one way. It didn’t shock me, nor turn me off. V’s can be fun, but you need loving from someone with experience just to remind you of how good contact can be. I could tell she had experience, and more. She’s a slut in the most pleasurable sense of the term. No matter the stall, the position, the length, this shit was going to be fun.
The bass dropped right before we floated into to the bathroom, forcing me to look up at the stage and right into the eyes of my target. He looked tired, but his playing never got lazy. The DJ will be there when I get back, and what I have in store for him couldn’t be more different than what I have in store for the devil with the grasp of an angel. I’ll let her lead me on.
The woman’s bathroom was lit like most of it’s kind: dark light flooded the room filled with glowing graffiti. The parts of the floor that wasn’t covered in dirt glowed like the artwork, while the glass bounced from the music playing outside. A woman let her stomach go in the first toilet as we headed to the last. My girl was gentle as she brought me in, but that soon changed. She rushed to lock the door and continued the movement to my lips while simultaneously reaching into my pants. As we let our stresses go I couldn’t help but think of the times my dad and I watched the classics. Seeing Humphrey Bogart clench the femme fatale in his arms, forgetting all about the Maltese Falcon and the people who stole it. The film’s tag line: “a story as explosive as his blazing automatic” rung through my head as she pulled out my other.
We had a wonderful time to say the least. Her back arched like the bow I leant to Rabies on our journey here (man, I promised not to think about her while doing the deed). Our motions were fluid… and our fluids were full of motion. I hadn’t been this satisfied in a long time.
And then it happened.
As she proceeded to put her pants on a piece of chalk fell from her pocket. All euphoria ceased. I know some people have to steal in order to survive, but it’s people who aren’t content with nabbing the necessities that make my job never ending. In the name of Rabies I pulled the gun that she leant me out, and aimed it at the raver’s head. She comprehended what I was doing, but kept sane.
“Who did you steal that from?”
“The what?”
“The chalk. Where did you get the chalk?”
“I bought it.”
“You can’t afford chalk.”
“I saved up for it, I swear.”
“Why would you need chalk?”
“To put on my body.”
“To what?”
“To put on my body. Sometimes I chalk up my body before coming to the rave. It increases my sex drive.”
She just increased mine.
“Show me.”
She picked out a few other pieces from her pockets and then, like in a trance, she doused herself in a dry rainbow of beauty. We went at it again. Maybe it was because endurance was in our cards this time or that there was something in the chalk worth inhaling. I’m convinced it was a mixture of both. Either way, the second time was better than the first. Way better than the first. If I had to rank it, I’d rank it a Murder, My Sweet in terms of quality. The first time was more of a Night In The City: really intriguing, but too stuck on Greco-roman wrestling for it’s own good. Second helping sex consisted of pockets of black washing over my mind when it wasn’t full of complex pleasures of universal whodunit. It was a piece of literature Chandler would have been tempted to write. All of my anger towards her went away.
Then so did the lights and so did the music.